Lost Love
by Epithet Nix
Summary: Shounen-ai..kind of. Quatre feels like a nuissance and seeks comfort in a deadly manner


Quatre sighed, leaning heavily against his door, a small, weak smile spread across his face as he tried to fight back tears. Furiously wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, he exhaled loudly, dropping his fist and slamming it against the door. He sighed once again, banging his head back against the solid piece of wood, closing his eyes and forcing himself to calm down.  
  
"Get a grip on yourself, Winner, you're a goddamned Gundam pilot, you've been through way worse then this." He said aloud, taking off his blazer and laying it down neatly on his dorm room bed.  
  
The five boys had been assigned a mission in northern Europe, posing as students. Entering a preparatory school was the perfect cover. Heero, Duo and Trowa, all three feigning to be geniuses. Coming from poor, desolate families. Quatre, a talented musician, here through his father's own coaxing, and Wufei, a quiet, exceedingly intelligent young nobleman from China.  
  
Our Lady of Peace Academy was the perfect headquarters. An exclusive Catholic prep school whose majority of students were OZ's children. With a small population of 450, the old school housed young, growing boys, and those who taught them.  
  
The outside world was a figment of each imagination. With tall, ivy covered stonewalls enclosing the school, in the midst of Ireland's foggy marshes and lush green forestry; Our Lady of Peace was hardly accessible.  
  
The school itself was made up of an oval shaped building, housing thirty- two classrooms. Two towering buildings on either side -- the upper and lower classmen's dorms. A small stone church, where the bells of divinely praise could be heard every hour, and the faculty homes.  
  
Most of the teachers were married with children, but because of the Academy's remoteness, the majority moved with their families to live at the school.  
  
Inside the old walls were small gardens at each corner. Large trees with low hanging branches filed the perimeter, small archways and hedged in nooks provided privacy in the openness of the schoolyards.  
  
Each of the five boys, assigned as senior high students, had a private dormitory room, save Duo and Heero who had asked to be paired together in one room. The blond boy glared at the floor by his bed harshly and put his books down on the old, wooden desk beneath his window.  
  
He was happy Duo and Heero had finally found one another, God knows it took them long enough. Quatre had begun to think Duo had finally found someone he couldn't crack. But did they have to kiss, fondle, caress, what-have- you, ~everywhere~? It wasn't that the pale boy was resentful of either of them, but whenever he saw them together it made him feel alone, barren, lost. He was jealous of what they ~had~, of their relationship. He wanted someone to call his own, and be called someone's in return. He wanted Trowa.  
  
The quiet boy hardly seemed to notice him, as if Quatre was no more then a young, innocent brother, one who didn't know any better. Quatre sighed, rolling up the cuffs of his flawlessly white shirt. He glanced down at the numerous scars and bloodstained bandages, fingering the small, protruding lines, gasping slightly from the shudder of pain.  
  
~*~FLASHBACK*~*  
  
"Quatre. Just. Go. Away." Trowa said, irritably at the over animated blond.  
  
"Oh..Ok, sorry Trowa," he said somewhat offended, lowering his head. "Excuse me," he added, exiting the small, concealed garden, he'd followed the dark haired pilot into.  
  
Quatre took a shaky breath.  
  
Is that it? I'm just a nuisance? Just go away? How could he dismiss me that easily? I thought we.  
  
He ended his thought, turning his head to the side bitterly. Tears stinging the corners of his eyes.  
  
"Well then.." He sniffed immaturely, tugging at the hem of his uniform blazer, straightening his tie in a weak defense against his lingering tears.  
  
He started walking towards his dorm, taking a small short cut through a dense circle of trees. Weaving in and out, a small, thin, whip-like branch struck him in the face, stinging hotly against his cool, pale cheek.  
  
"Damnit!" he swore angrily, reaching a slender hand up to rub at his face. Bringing his hand down, he saw the faint colour of crimson. Meshing his forefinger and thumb together he could feel the warm, sticky sensation blood brought along with it. Upon seeing the blood, a physical manifestation of his inner pain, he gasped, not from displeasure, but the sudden realization. It didn't have to hurt inside, if it hurt worse outside.  
  
*~*END FLASHBACK~*~  
  
Quatre took a small, thin blade, one enveloped in a piece of white cotton material. A small utensil he kept immaculately clean. He didn't need an infection to arouse suspicions.  
  
He took the small piece of metal, and gasped at the slight chill he felt from the transfer of heat. Smiling contentedly he watched a small pool of blood form on his forearm, directly beneath the blade, and moaned slightly in pain.  
  
*~~~~~~~~~~~*  
  
Duo paused in his cheerful walk down the hall, pressing his ear up against Quatre's door.  
  
"Quat? You ok? I thought I heard you." he said, quietly knocking on the door and fumbling with the old handle to open it. "Quatre?" he whispered  
  
Walking into an apparently empty room he shrugged turning to leave before hearing a low whimper coming from an adjoining bathroom.  
  
Because of his father's supposed wealth and influence, Quatre was one of the few students with a private washroom.  
  
Duo silently eeped at the sound, a rather disturbing, and erotic mental picture coming to his mind, He settled on exiting, but not until another thought struck him.  
  
What if Quatre was hurt?  
  
So Duo decided to take a quick peek inside the bathroom.  
  
Upon opening the door, Duo almost threw-up. To his horror Quatre stood, naked from his waist up staring at his blood covered arm, and small, almost maniacal giggles escaping his throat.  
  
Closing the door before the other pilot could see him, Duo ran out of the room, gasping for air.  
  
"What the hell was that?" he asked aloud, feeling sick to his stomach. The mere thought of their Quatre, sweet innocent, childlike Quatre..  
  
He couldn't even finish the thought  
  
"O God," he moaned, clutching his stomach.  
  
"Maxwell, what the hell are you groaning about now?" came a cynical voice from down the hall.  
  
Duo lifted his deep, violet eyes, meeting with those of charcoal black.  
  
"O God, Wufei," he choked.  
  
"Maxwell?" he asked, a small hint of concern in his thick voice, before his eyes narrowed. "Did you stuff your face again? I told you not the eat so much." He lectured coldly.  
  
"No..O God.." he repeated "Quatre..he.."  
  
Wufei frowned "What is it? Spit it out!" He ordered.  
  
Duo took a deep breath, relaxing his nerves for a moment, and looking down at the tiled floor beneath him, trying to steady himself. "Quatre..I walked into his bathroom..And there was blood.." he said pathetically  
  
"Winner? What happened to him?" Wufei asked, his eyes widening slightly and his voice somewhat panicked, yet there were no other physical changes in Wufei's demeanor.  
  
He pushed past the faltering boy, placing his hand on the doorknob to Quatre's room.  
  
"No! Wufei!" Duo nearly yelled. "Not yet! Don't just go in there!" he warned.  
  
"Maxwell, this is serious. If Quatre is hurting himself, it's obvious the boy needs help," he stated matter-of-factly, turning to glare at Duo.  
  
"Listen, Chang," Duo said sternly, "I've had a hell-of-a lot more experience in this department that you," he pressed, glaring back at the Chinese boy. "If we just barge in there, like a pack of raging lunatics, accusing and demanding answers, Quatre's going to deny everything."  
  
"So what do you suggest then? We let him continue this self-mutilation, in hopes that it'll all just blow over?" he asked, furious that this braided fool would dare argue with him.  
  
"No," he said flatly, "Let me deal with it," he paused tugging at the collar of his blazer superiorly "I am a much better people person then you are, after all," he added smugly.  
  
"Maxwell, I'll kill you if anything goes wrong, Winner is not only essential to the mission, but a much better traveling companion then you."  
  
*~~~~~~~~~~~~*  
  
"God, Quatre.." Duo sighed, throwing his books down on the floor of his own room, his deep navy blazer following.  
  
He frowned slightly in concentration. What could have pushed Quatre as far over the edge? All five pilots had been trained to repress, ignore and eventually, simply become immune to psychological problems, such as depression. Quatre though, he'd never really dealt with feelings the way the others did.  
  
Always worrying about how others where doing, not really having a chance to fully express the way he, himself felt. The effects of war had just always seemed to dissipate the second they got within two feet of Quatre's shining, golden innocence.  
  
Duo let out an exasperated sigh, putting a hand to his forehead and brushing away his bangs. He'd have to confront Quatre somewhat indirectly.  
  
Taking a deep breath he opened his door and walked to Quatre's room.  
  
The blond pilot finished rebandaging his selfinflicted wounds and quickly rolled down his sleeves, answering his door on Duo's third, and so far, most exuberant knock.  
  
"Hey Duo! What's up?" he asked in a forced, cheery tone.  
  
The braided boy cringed at the (now) too obviously fake shield. "Ummmm.." Duo paused, having not planned past getting to the door "Uh..Pencil! I need a pencil!" he blurted out.  
  
Quatre raised an eyebrow "You walked down two flights of stairs and down the hall for a pencil?" Quatre asked suspiciously, subconsciously folding his arms behind his back, out of everyone's view.  
  
"Yup! Killer math homework!" Duo nodded vehemently, scratching the back of his neck.  
  
"Alright then," he responded slowly, turning to grab the asked-for utensil.  
  
"Nice work, Maxwell, ~that~ got you somewhere." Duo mumbled to himself, banging his head against the doorframe "O well, time for plan B."  
  
Quatre returned holding the pencil between his forefinger and thumb "Duo, are you alright?" He asked, frowning slightly.  
  
"Quatre..I know what you've been doing," he said flatly, looking directly at the other boy.  
  
Quatre's eyes opened widely for a moment, before he reformed his calm demeanor, "What's that Duo?" he asked innocently.  
  
Duo frowned grabbing Quatre's wrist, pulling the white sleeve to the other boy's elbow. "Play innocent all you want Quatre, but explain to me what the hell that's all about," he demanded, referring to Quatre's bandaged forearm.  
  
Quatre nearly tore his arm away from Duo's grasp. "Duo..Please" he begged silently, tears forming in the corners of his eyes as he fixed his sleeve.  
  
"Please what, Quatre?" he asked, taking an intimidating step forward. "Please let me continue hurting myself for no apparent reason?!" he mocked, nearly yelling.  
  
"Duo.." Quatre whispered pathetically, his eyes cast down in shame.  
  
"I'm not going to let you do that to yourself," he said matter-of-factly.  
  
"Duo, you don't understand!" he yelled, lifting his eyes to meet Duo's, tears streaming down the side of his face. "You don't understand," he repeated slowly.  
  
The braided boy's eyes softened and he reached his arms forward, embracing Quatre emphatically. The blond boy sniffed back his tears childishly and leaned against Duo's chest helplessly.  
  
"He hates me Duo, he hates me, and I don't know why.." he sobbed, darkness enveloping him as tears, and his world, poured forth, soaking into Duo's shirt. 


End file.
